


Terrified

by pushupindrag



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Sharing Clothes, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushupindrag/pseuds/pushupindrag
Summary: Mitch Mueller is terrified of thunder storms. He texts Jonas, and Jonas comes to his rescue.Mitch is afraid of thunderstorms. It’s stupid he knows. But it’s not something he can help. And believe him, he had tried.His aunt is out, and he can’t text one of the guys for fear of being ragged on about it for the entirety of his future.





	Terrified

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little worried this might be a little ooc? But everyone's afraid of something right? Including Mitch!
> 
> None of the characters are mine they belong to the wonderful webcomic Long Exposure which you can read [here!](http://longexposurecomic.com/)
> 
> Beta'd and Edited by the wonderful Hippomatrix on here and [maaarble on tumblr](http://maaarble.tumblr.com/) Thank you so much for doing this!!!
> 
> Come chat with me about these guys on my tumblr [here](http://postpvnk.tumblr.com/) if you want!

Mitch is afraid of thunderstorms. He knows it’s stupid. But it’s not something he can help. And believe him, he has tried.

His aunt is out, and he can’t text one of the guys for fear of being ragged on about it for the entirety of his future.

From past experience, booze never helps. And the amount of weed he’d need to take him completely out of the situation would fuck him up too much in the morning. Especially since the next morning is a damn school day, and he wants any excuse to see Jonas. And he doesn’t have anything else in the house anyway. Or… trailer. Whatever. It’s still his home.

Even if right now it doesn’t’t seem like the safest place in the world.

He jumps again at another rumble of thunder, pulling his blankets further over his head. Buddy is sleeping at his feet, only a slightly comforting presence but better than nothing. They’re curled up on the couch, facing the silent static of the TV. The signal had gone out a while ago, and he hadn’t wanted any part of him to leave his little nest, so he hasn’t bothered getting up to change it.

“Fuck this.”

He blindly reaches for his phone, jumping at every crack of lightning, hands shaking as he pulls it back under the covers when he manages to get his hands on it.

Own: CM OVR

The brightness of the screen is only somewhat distracting as he shakes, and he’s lucky that Jonas was always one to reply quickly.

Joeeey: What?

Own: CM OVR M DYIN

Joeeey: WHAT?

Own: I NED HELP

Joeeey: I’m on my way…

Own: DRS OPEN

He doesn’t get a reply after that and he cringes as he looks back over the texts.

 

He’s never needed to rely on anybody. Not for anything. And yet here he is practically begging for Jonas to come over at the sound of a little thunder. Pathetic. He is pathetic.

Jonas probably won’t come over anyway. Mitch is being stupid. As always.

Groaning to himself, he wraps himself up tighter, curling up into a ball. Buddy groans too at being jostled around before he’s scrabbling up onto Mitch, curling up right in the middle of the bundle Mitch has turned himself into and falling back asleep with a little huff.

Mitch really fucking loves Buddy. The flea bag has always been a source of entertainment and comfort. Even if he does have a tendency to bite Mitch’s toes when he wants something. But that’s okay, because he’s always up for a cuddle. And no matter how hard Mitch may claim to be, sometimes he just needs a cuddle.

Mitch is contemplating this, trying desperately to take his mind off the noise outside. So much so that he nearly shits himself when the front door bangs open.

And then he’s on high alert, shoving a growling buddy behind him as he leaps up. Not caring about the fact that he’s only in a loose t-shirt and boxers, snarling menacingly at the intruder.

“Who the fuck-”

“Mitch!” And fuck, that voice has him melting.

“Joey? What the fuck you doin’ here?”

And suddenly the imposing figure in the doorway comes into the light, looking like a nervous drowned rat.

“You don’t even have a coat on or nothin’” He doesn’t get enough time to be caring, instead there’s another crack of lighting and he’s jumping to his makeshift bed again, pulling the covers over his head with a shriek he will never ever in his life admit to.

He barely manages to hear the door close, blocking out some of the sound.

“You said you were dying so I just.” Mitch manages to peek out, watching as Jonas shrugs. He’s looking around awkwardly, shifting from wet foot to wet foot.

“You snuck out to come see me?”

And there’s suddenly twinges of green lighting the air, dancing around the small front room. “You said you were dying, what was I supposed to do!” And then Jonas is crossing his arms with an angry huff. “If you’re just gonna be a jerk I can go back home-”

And that shakes Mitch a little, and the thought of being alone makes him splutter. “No fuck please. I’m.” And it hurts admitting it but he really doesn’t want Jonas to leave. “I’m fuckin’ scared of storms okay. I’m really fuckin’ terrified right now.”

“Storms really?” And the green vanishes. Thank fuck.

“Yeah yeah I know. Shut the fuck up about it-”

“I wasn’t saying anything.” Mitch looks up again, and Jonas is smiling, a little softer now. They both jump at the thunder, but Mitch thinks it’s only because he jumped that Jonas did.

“You wanna put your clothes on the heater? You’re fucking soaked man. I’ve got shit in my drawers you can wear.” And Jonas being there already helps. Just by giving Mitch a distraction.

“Nothing’s probably gonna fit me.” And shit Jonas is blushing in a bad way. Embarrassed. And practically wearing a hole in the floor with his gaze. Mitch feels fucking awful for making Jonas uncomfortable.

He tries to play it off, as if it doesn’t matter “Nah, you’ll find somethin’. Even just a hoodie or some shit?”

“You have any without holes?”

“What ya gonna put your head and arm’s through if it doesn’t have holes dumbass?”

Jonas laughs, loud and bright and Mitch wants to hear it forever.

“You got a hoodie for me then?”

“Check the drawers?”

Jonas slowly makes his way over to the haphazard drawers, grimacing with how uncomfortable the wet clothes must feel. The drawers are underneath the bed in the other room, but they can still see and hear each other pretty clearly. The trailer isn’t really made for living in over long periods of time. But that doesn’t matter.

It’s still somewhere Mitch can call home, and that’s what matters.

They try and keep up a conversation, awkward and stilted and jumpy with every bang from outside, but Jonas gets quieter and quieter as he looks through the drawers. The rain gives them a soundtrack, the torrential downpour covering any silence.

That is until Mitch feels as though he’s going to shake out of existence from the silence. And for his worry that Jonas had stopped talking. “You okay Joey?”

“Yeah just-”

Mitch gets up, blanket wrapped around him like a cape. Nothing could stop him from helping Joey when he sounded so sad, nothing. Not even the shitty weather.

Jonas is shivering out of his skin, left drawer open to nothing but underwear and socks, the right few drawers were open too, revealing nothing but skinny jeans and too worn t-shirts.

“You’re lookin’ in the wrong place dude. Here.” Mitch gently shuffles Jonas out of the way with his hip, opening the middle drawer. “All my pyjamas and shit are in ‘ere.”

“You own pyjamas?” Mitch smiles at the quizzical look on Jonas’ face, and grins wider when Jonas raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Well duh.”

“You’re currently in your underwear, it’s not hard for me to assume you don’t have pyjamas.”

And Mitch blushes, he can feel it.

“I was in the fuckin’ middle of gettin’ dressed now look.” He rummages, trying to fight his blush away as he pulls out some old sweatpants, and a t-shirt that hangs off of him that he hasn’t worn in years. It would be fine for Joey- Jonas. It would be fine for Jonas.

He hands them over, beaming when Jonas takes them with a smile.

“I’ll just go hide under my covers okay? There’s a bathroom but it’s tiny. And the heater is like… over there? You can use it right?”

Jonas rolls his eyes and shoo’s at Mitch who goes and sits back on the couch, distracting himself with bundling the covers back around himself. Buddy climbs back onto his knee, curling up again as Mitch watches Jonas slowly get to the small bathroom.

But then another rumble jolts him back to reality. The rain seems to turn up a few notches in his head, drowning out every other sound until it’s all he can hear. A relentless drumming in his ears that’s only pierced by thunder and lightning.

 

“T-talk to me?” His shaky voice has him cursing under his breath. But Jonas is here to keep him company right? For whatever fucking reason, Jonas is here, in Mitch’s home. Getting changed into Mitch’s clothes.

The thought has Mitch a little hot under the collar, but he tamps it down and pushes it back, like he does with everything else.

That is until Jonas comes out, awkward and flushed and pulling at the hem of the t-shirt that’s only slightly too big.

“Uh? Heater?” And Mitch can’t seem to pick his jaw up from the floor at the sight.

“Wha’?”

Jonas shakes the pile of wet clothes in his hands “Heater?”

“Oh uh…. Over there?” Mitch manages to hook his thumb over his shoulder, hand on reflex going to Buddy’s weird combination of fur and quills.

“Thanks.” And there’s green light filtering through the air.

“Nothin’ to be scared of, Spot’s, alright? I’m the one who should be fuckin’, fuckin’ glowin’ green right now.”

Jonas doesn’t say anything, he just goes about the motions of putting his things on one of the heaters and putting it on. It provides a nice white noise as it wheezes gently. Between that and Jonas, Mitch is starting to feel a little less afraid.

Mitch only speaks again when Jonas turns to him, awkward and shuffling at the heater, unsure of where to go.

“You gotta come sit with me alright? Keep me safe. You cool with that?” And he seems to relax.

“Yeah, uh? If you want me to?”

“Course I do Spots. You gotta come and cuddle the big scary noises away.” And it’s easier to joke about it, with Jonas there. And slowly his lights start shifting from green to yellow.

“Only if you’re sure.”

“As sure as i’ll ever be Joey.” Slowly, and still a little hesitant, Jonas walks over, smiling sheepishly when Mitch opens one of his arms, Buddy getting shoved a little as Jonas climbs under Mitch’s covered arm.

And instantly, just by having Joey by his side, curling up underneath his arm and settling there, knees pulling up to his chin, Mitch feels a whole lot more settled despite the constant thrumming of the rain that he can still feel in his veins and his chest.

It should feel weirder that it does. Joey seems to still be on edge, but he’s talking as if they’re sitting five feet apart. Chatting about the day and what weird thing Sidney had done the other week.

It takes him a good ten minutes to realise, one arm around Joey, slowly trailing his fingers up and down his arm, the other rooted in Buddy’s fur, that he’s relaxed, happy and safe and curled underneath his quilt with his pet and his crush, and he hasn’t been scared of the storm in at least five minutes, which is a record right now.

Which then of course screws the entire situation up as he’s been made aware. Everything seems to have picked up. The wind, the rain, and of course the bang and rumbling from the thunder and lightning, and it’s like everything happens at once.

His heart stops, his breathing quickens and there’s instantly a sob lodged in his throat as terror seizes him.

He panics.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” It’s a litany that he clings to as everything else seems to fade.

Breathing isn’t a thing that’s happening right now and all he can do is curl tighter, shy away from the noises and cover his ears, shouting to try and drown everything out. But it becomes overwhelming.

Engulfing him, taking away his ability to breath.

Until he feels a persistent hand on his arm, moving to curl around his waist. A weight and a presence behind him, pressing closer to him. Drawing him back into reality.

And it’s Joey? Spooning up behind him, holding on so carefully, talking to him softly and slowly.

“It’s alright Mitch. Mitch I’m here, alright? I’m here, it’s not gonna hurt you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you I promise.”

They’re surrounded by pink rosy light. Jonas. He’s surrounded by Jonas. And his heart breaks.

“Joey- Fuck Joey.”

“I’m here Mitch. It’s okay, I won’t let anything hurt you.”

He breaks. In the middle of a thunderstorm and utterly overwhelmed by the care that he’s being shown, Mitch Mueller breaks.

Shit goes flying. Everything comes off the counters, hovering and then either falling or flying across the room. Something cracks, a few other things definitely break, and Mitch is terrified.

He’s terrified of lashing out, of hurting Joey. But that doesn’t happen.

He kisses Joey instead.

He flips over, arms in front of him and he’s scared that he’s going to do something until his hands tangle in the front of the stupid ‘too big on the both of them’ shirt, and he’s reeling Joey in for a kiss.

It’s not soft, like he wants. It’s desperate and tear stained and it reeks of fear.

But Joey kisses back.

The motherfucker actually kisses back.

Everything fades. Everything stops. Things stop flying, the storm gets tuned out. All because Joey had kissed him back. Because Joey is still kissing him back.

The kiss eventually fades from desperation to something slower, licking into each others mouths, deepening it bit by bit. Mitch explores, relishing in how Joey’s hand tightens on his hip whenever Mitch does something his likes. He bites at Joey’s bottom lip and Jonas surges into it, squeezing at Mitch’s hip before retaliating.

Joey bites too, sucking at the tender skin there and Mitch melts into it. And it’s only once Mitch shifts his hands a little, tangling them more, pressing back, that they stop. Gasping.

“Mitch? Mitch I -”

“Just, can we have this Spots? Just for a fuckin’ minute please.” And his voice is wrecked, practically sobbing with desperation. He just needs a minute. Just a fucking minute more kissing Joey. His Joey. “Joey fuck please.”

He hates being like this. Weak. Powerless to another person. That wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to be again.

But this is Joey. His Joey. Who isn’t sneering at him, but smiling softly instead. He couldn’t find it within himself to hate that, even if he had wanted to.

“Okay Mitch. Okay.”

And they kiss, again and again and again. Slow and steady and everything Mitch needs to keep him from panicking, to getting in that headspace again.

It takes hours, for the storm to pass over, and it’s only then that they stop kissing.

Joey’s falling asleep, head resting on Mitch’s arm from the few times they had readjusted themselves, arm wrapped tightly around Mitch’s waist. Mitch has his free hand at Joey’s neck, tracing Joey’s soft jaw and cupping his face whenever he wants to deepen their kisses.

“You best go home Spots. Don’t want shit head gettin’ worried.” The rain has stopped so he’s able to smirk again, faking arrogance as he lets himself thumb over Joey’s cheek one last time. He plants a kiss on his forehead, moving down to give Joey one last soft and lingering kiss, sweet and quiet. Because who knows if he’ll ever get the chance to do that again?

“Yeah.” It’s awkward then. The reminder of what lies outside the comfort and warmth of the blanket tucked around them finally coming to the forefront of their minds.

Everything goes back to being stilted and awkward in an instant. And Joey seems to have a blush etched permanently into his skin.

He grabs his skateboard from where it lies forgotten by the door after untangling himself, turning to Mitch one last time.

“Later Spots.”

“Later Mitch.” And with a small smile, one that’s rueful yet still incredibly soft and warming, Joey leaves to go home.

Neither of them realise he’s gone back in Mitch’s clothes, forgetting his own in his haste to get away from the awkward situation.

And hey, when Mitch gets them from the heater, nobody has to know that he sleeps in Joey’s shirt that night, warm smile on his face that his Aunt can’t seem to comment on the next morning.


End file.
